Chosen
by FragmentedFellow
Summary: Mary contemplates just what it means to be the mother of God's child. The full impact of being chosen to among all others. Why God would want her. A mild God/Mary slashy sort of thing I guess.


Chosen

Chosen by God. I was chosen by God himself.

I suppose my life never will be the same again, will it? Months ago I was just another silly girl, with eyes on a certain carpenter. What sort of life now am I leading when messages from angels in the middle of the night are to be expected? A blessed one. I am blessed.

So why do I feel like this is too much of a burden for me to care for alone? Though I suppose I'm not alone, not with Joseph, sweet dear Joseph.

Does he really believe me, what I said? Does he still believe me an adulteress?

Am I an adulteress?

Was God my first? Does that count? I am the mother of his child. Does that make him my spouse?

My lover?

And what of Joseph? Poor, loving Joseph. Am I meant to be with him? Am I expected to never lie with him, with another soul again?

The child is sleeping. Jesus, son of God. Son of mine. He hardly cries at all, is this part of God's doing? Is this child already aware of his creation, of his future? He has such a hard life ahead of him. Will he have tantrums and scraped knees like other boys, or will he be somehow above such things? He's just a baby; he can't care for himself now. I suppose that won't change when he grows older. A boy will always need his mother. I just pray that I am capable of being the mother he needs. A mother of God.

His curled hair is already thick on his head. He is beautiful. How much of his appearance comes from his father, I wonder. Is his nose that of God's? We're all made in God's image, but this seems like it should be a more definite example. Or maybe not.

When he grows older, we will have to tell him of his nature. I wonder if that duty will be given by another angel. Part of me wishes the angels would take this baby and raise him to be His messiah the proper way. Am I terrible? How do we raise a messiah. How can we do this? Like any other family. We will be like any other family. Mother, son and Joseph. He will be a good father to Jesus.

Will it be a lie if he calls Joseph his father?

I have so many questions. They will be answered in time. Everything will be answered in time.

God has been proven to me. I never needed anything certified in my faith before. I suppose that much still is the same. I have little idea what is in store for me, for us, for the world. All I do know is that I just need to continue being faithful to God.

Faithful.

Is it possible Joseph may hold contempt for this boy? No, he will be a father to him. He will love Jesus like a father would his son. I am so sorry he managed to get entangled in such a strange life. Though he says he is grateful to be blessed like this. Will he be jealous of me, feeling that God Himself is now a competition for me? If he asked me if he should feel threatened, I am not sure what to say. What would be a lie, what would be truth? I have another man's child laying here in this cradle. No, not a man's child. God's child. Do I love Him? Of course, without question, it's God. Creator of everything. I love Him as does every one of His chosen people.

But I am not as every one of His chosen people, am I. I am the chosen amongst the chosen. He picked me, of all the people on Earth to come to that night. Was it my purity, my innocence?

Was it my beauty?

No. That is vanity getting a hold of me. But even still, he wanted me. And unlike the illusory deities of Rome, he did not ravish me or force himself upon me. He asked this of me. God asked for my permission. He, who invented the stars, crafted the mountains, forged the oceans, and designed every flower petal. He who can have, take, and do anything because He created everything, and is everything. He asked for my permission.

I will never forget that night. That magical night. No, it was not magic. On that _miraculous_ night. How he came to me in the form of the Holy Spirit. I felt his tender hand upon my face. His hands so soft, so strong, the hands he used to create all of creation. The same hands that smote cities, blighted armies, and flooded the earth, now brushed my cheek as gently as though I were glass. I felt life take form within me. Every regret and mistake I had made in my life washed away in a wave starting from the palms of my feet and rising upwards and flooding through my body. It was the feeling of light rushing over me. It was the feeling of being one with God. And I can feel he is with me still.

I wonder if He thinks of me. What am I thinking, of course He thinks of me. He is watching over all of us. God loves us all. Regardless of every flaw and every fault of mine, no matter how many times I may stumble off the path, He loves me still, and this will never change. Such a simple statement manages to be so overwhelming, so powerful, so eternal that I still am unable to fully comprehend the magnitude of it.

He loves me.

He loves everyone.

Just as he too loves Joseph.

And I love Joseph, he is my husband, he will be the father of our son, and our future children. I love him.

But still…

He chose me, though.

I could not possibly dare think it.

It is blasphemy.

It is unspeakable.

Who do I think I am?

Joseph, forgive me.

God forgive me.

I love Him.


End file.
